I walked through the autumn wood with his camera clung onto my hand. He smiled at me from a distance with the baby face I had always adored, then added a dramatic wave
and skipped into the trees. I smiled at the thought of him enjoying himself, then remembered how incredibly bored I was. I felt like I would have rather spent a week doing nothing in my home than
spending a day surrounded by pointless mud and waste-of-space trees.

I dragged my feet along the damp grass, kicking the odd stone and stick out of the way with my old leather boots as I did. I could hear he was now close by as he was
making juvenile aeroplane noises. A few moments later he ran past me with his arms stretched aside, scraping his hands along the drooping branches from the surrounding oak and willow trees and
crunching the nettled terrain with his bare feet, carelessly cutting them as he did.

Like every other day, he would spend all day doing everything an average person wouldn’t. He would take pictures of the sky because he claimed that no one appreciates
it as much as they should. Remarkably, all of the pictures he took were pulchritudinous in a semiotic kind of way. Even the picture of a dirty pair of shoes he took a year ago when he was 8 had
some kind of deep meaning and indescribable beauty to it, though that could have just been the case because of the way he described everything in the image with such detail which and the whole
image have an overall effect on you. His creativity and understanding of the true meaning of art was overwhelming coming from a boy of his age. I never thought I could look up to someone as young
as him, even if he was just my kid brother.

The sweet, swishy sounds of the tree’s branches brushing against each other made him suddenly pause and throw his head back with a gasp of amazement and excitement as
his entire face lit up... like it had somehow flicked on a magical switch inside of him. His eyes widened and jaw dropped as he witnessed the light breaking through the trees with such elegance
which sent a rush of warmth through me in the cold, autumn, weather. He began to giggle with excitement. His reaction made the nature I once detested seem beautiful…if only just for a
moment.

His excitement grew as did the volume of his, now uncontrollable, laughter. He lifted up his arms as stretched them aside once more, and then began to spin around,
still looking up at what he would have thought of as heaven. I imagined that he was filming it in his mind; he always used to make a rectangle with his fingers and pretend to capture videos when
his beloved camera wasn’t around. I imagined he would use his footage in a short film that he would make on the beauty of light and, of course, the sky in the soon future.

Though soon enough, my thoughts of love and amazement turned to worry as his feet began to move out of place and he began to stumble, though his eyes were still
strongly fixated on the scene. His laugh soon grew to be hysteric and the enjoyment factor had been drained, like the switch within him had been somehow turned off…leaving him empty. My heart sunk
as his eyes rolled back; quickly followed by his knees collapsing and a once hysterical laughter became an almost deafening silence.

The trees stood still and the sun hid behind the clouds as the, once tight, bond between my hand and his camera had detached as my beauty among the nature thudded onto
the nettled ground.